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Chapter 19 - Sacrifice (CF)
The next day slipped by quicker than Tubba had ever imagined time could move. It turned out that the Place of the Unruly was a high-security prison that the Koopas had built in the past six years, just above Clubba Cliff to the eastern edge of Gusty Gulch, so it overlooked the sea. As it turned out, Ludwig was more informed that Tubba could’ve known, for hours after they themselves had been interred in the Place of the Unruly, the rest of their team showed up. There was no sign of Dibby. Paralus sighed - he was sharing a cell with Tubba, along with Gamma and Galmajo. “They saw us walking around in the prairies, but they waited for us to come to them.” Tubba knew that that was probably the case, but he was furious with himself. Who had led them through the prairies, on the basis that it was rarely patrolled? He had. Ludwig had delegated the incarceration of Tubba and friends to Roy. Roy had taken a certain relish in separating Gamma and Xavier to different cells, laughing at their cries and furious yells at him to get them locked in together. It was Tubba’s understanding that they had separated Tubba, Paralus, Gamma and Galmajo from the rest. According to the diagrams of the Place of the Unruly, it was separated into two highly fortified towers, with a small base connecting them, with the more dangerous prisoners the closest to the top. The four of them were in the opposite tower to the other seven prisoners, lingering at nearly the highest level. Tubba admired the architecture, building the high-security prison out of stone in a little under three years, according to Paralus, since the Place of the Unruly was functioning and had received the first prisoners when he left Gusty Gulch. He spoke fearfully of the spectacle made of the executions - the prisoners were led down their respective, into the base of the fortress, where an arena that opened to the sky, and an audience surrounded the dirty area where the executions took place, a quick magic blast between the eyes. The first few hours were of denial. They tried desperately to break out of the heavy, magically-reinforced iron bars, but it was futile, especially with the guards standing barely a few feet away. The next few hours were of sadness, tears were shed, despair was echoed through hollow wails - there was absolutely nothing there could do. And the final few hours, including sleeping, was of resignation. Their fate was sealed. All eleven of them would go, at the same time. Even Sarge, who was undead - Ludwig had promised to purge his magical essence. In the resignation period, Tubba learned that the same three Clubbas who had ruined his life would be present. Clubbette and Mazette, the wards of the Clubba Ward of the Koopa Kingdom, would be sitting next to Ludwig, the King, as he observed the execution. Chubba, his brother, his twin... would watch as he died. Not lifting a finger to help. No emotion. No brotherly love, no connection. Chubba would just feel nothing as Tubba was executed. The guards heaved them out of their cell early in the morning, cuffed by magically reinforced handcuffs to each other - Gamma having a little ring around his whole body - they united with the rest of the team, meeting similar faces of resignation. There, they were dragged out in no particular order - Galmajo on the farthest right, being dragged by the guard, and Sarge on the left, dragging his bony feet against the stone to delay the inevitable. The magic cuffs and chains they wore were enchanted to prevent any of their magical abilities, such as electricity or Sarge's ice breath, from working. Galmajo’s face was one of complete resignation. His snout drooped over his mouth, and while his glasses hid his eyes from view, Tubba was positive that they would be full of sorrow, knowing that it was over. Sarge’s yellow eyes were synonymous with despair, as he looked around desperately for anything that could save them, anyone, any friend. Cuffed to Galmajo was Gonzales, his shoulders hunched over, his dark orange eyes dull. He was not trying to resist, just staring aimlessly at the walls, his memories likely racing through his head. Tubba was cuffed to Gonzales’ other side, comforted by his friend’s presence. They would die together. Behind Tubba was Gamma, his little ring around his body not obstructing his soft eyes as he sought out Xavier, whose right hand was caught to Gamma’s ring. Xavier had a rare expression of a happy emotion under his mask, as if he was resigned to the fact he was going to die, and there were hardly any better people to die with. Behind Xavier was Mud, his lips mouthing the words, “Stual.” Tubba felt a pang of pain for his friend, who had clearly been hoping to make up with his younger brother, and not be cut short. Mud trailed behind Xavier, head down. On Mud’s other side was Paralus, the orange Clubba the only one still fighting desperately to to free them, but the strong chains kept him bound from escaping, despite him yanking Aaron, who was behind him, forward and back roughly as he tore at the chains to be free. Aaron seemed disinterested in his fate, having slipped his pumpkin mask over his head, but Tubba could hear the slight sobs that came from his friend, anxious about what was going to happen. Aaron had Shazam behind him, the Snifit’s head buried in his hands, as he was yanked forward as the rest of them took the unstoppable path to their finale. Blizzerd was the calmest of them all, had all his four hands cuffed, two to Shazam and two to Sarge, behind him, but his face was alert, as if looking for an escape route. Tubba couldn’t suppress a wry smile at Blizzerd’s faith. Sarge brought up the rear. Sunlight dazzled into their eyes as they were heaved out of a heavy iron door and into a roomy, circular enclosed area. Walls of stone ten metres high surrounded them on all sides, with iron doors dotting around the ring. There were room for hundreds of people in the sandy pit they were enclosed in, but it was just Tubba and his friends as they were heaved to the centre. A masked Magikoopa stood many paces in front, a yellow sceptre gripped in his gnarled yellow hands, his robes as black as night. Above him, Tubba narrowed his eyes with anger. Ludwig sat proudly, lounging on a red throne, the scars on his face barely visible beyond his giant smile. To his left sat Mazette, the orange once-queen leering down at Tubba. To his right were two of Tubba’s closest relatives, first, the light-blue Clubba that was his half-sister Clubbette, her gaze curious as she looked down upon them. Next to her was the teal skin of Chubba. Tubba didn’t even want to know the emotion on his brother’s face, but the more he looked, the more he couldn’t deny it. Disinterest. Surrounding the whole area was a ring of seats, climbing higher and higher to the sky like the two towers, some cast in shade by the shadows of said towers. To Tubba’s horror, he saw that the seats were nearly packed full with Clubbas and Koopas. With the eerie silence coming from them, it was hard to equate that they were surrounded by thousands of people. The guard slipped away from them, and after a few seconds of his feet crunching against the sand, the slam of the heavy iron door they came through echoed loudly through the arena, a jolt in the still air. Tubba looked forward at the Magikoopa, who held his sceptre by his side, still. “Welcome, one and all, to the execution of Tubba Red Clubba Blubba II, Aaron Leif, Blizzerd Frositly, Galmajo Corcer...” A dull voice droned on over the public address system in the execution ring. A chill ran through Tubba, and he could feel Gonzales shivering next to him. Their death was moments away. When the voice had finished introducing those who were to be executed, Ludwig stood up. “Welcome, Clubbas, to the death of the symbol of independence. Welcome, Koopas, to yet another revolutionary execution,” Ludwig began, his voice echoing clearly without aid of a mic or magic. Tubba remarked dryly to himself that Ludwig had dropped the fake accent for these public speeches. “Typically, we execute by a magic blast between the eyes. However, today, we have elected for the first execution, the leader of this bunch of rogues, to be done symbolically. My brother Roy Koopa - Commander of the Koopan Armies - will grab the very club this Clubba wielded for many years, and do the needful using it, to show metaphorically, the passage of the crown.” At his words, Tubba saw that the black-robed Magikoopa was accompanied by Roy Koopa, his pink sunglasses glinting menacingly in the early day sun. In his right hand, his knuckles turning white because of the strength he gripped it with, was Karubba’s club. Tubba’s grandfather’s club. Feeling himself being forced down by an unseen guard, Tubba exposed the back of his head to the sky, but his eyes could only see sand. Gonzales thrashed next to him, shouting and doing anything he could to obstruct the guard, which wasn’t much, just missing the guard by a whisker with his punches. On his other side, he could hear Gamma’s anguished screams, but he felt strangely distant. Tubba felt a detached curiosity at what would happen next. He saw Roy’s feet move from the Magikoopa standing in front of him, tread over the grains of sand over to where Tubba was kneeling, his head exposed to the sky. He heard a snide remark from Roy, but he didn’t internalize it. He could hear the crowd screaming, whether it was screams of delight or screams of horror, he didn’t know. His friends were thrashing furiously, but it appeared no one could do anything. Crunch. That was all Tubba heard.